Marylith: Rise of an Enigma
by Dylantoday
Summary: A young girl is born into the harsh world of Tamriel, upon her birth something dark happens. This is the story of her life, and her tremendous growth and effect on the world around her. Note: Not an "OMG my character is da best". Rated M for violence, some sexual situations, etc. No need to rate, or whatever. Just enjoy.
1. Prologue

**Marylith: Rise of an Enigma**

This is the story of my OC in the world of The Elder Scrolls.

This isn't for everyone, because I'm not interested in pulling any punches. Morrowind, Oblivion, and Skyrim are rated M.

So is her story.

* * *

**Prologue**

The crows were louder that day, the day she was born. The skies of Cheydinhal grew the same color of the stone walls protecting the people, as the wind carried the leaves off the trees. The crows fluttered in the wind and landed on a rooftop in the middle of the town, their feathers dotted the air a stark black, so dark the stars couldn't shine through. Usually a peaceful, beautiful place that encourages the growth of families turned sadly sordid; and the wind continued to howl.

A woman laid, with her faithful handmaiden that was glad to wipe the sweat off her brow, to comfort her in the most beautiful, or the most tragic, event she would ever experience. Her name was Arrula, an Imperial woman from a wealthy family, settling to raise a child in the calms of Cyrodill. Her husband was a Nord man, from the Skyrim settlement known as Dawnstar. He had often returned to his home of cold and ice to remember that he is of Nord blood. He couldn't have picked a worse day to return to his roots.

Arrula arched her back in a cry of pain, the pressure relieving from her. She laid her head sideways, staring at the stone before she had realized what had happened. She had given birth to a daughter; a daughter that would one day rise to be one of the most prominent figures in Tamriel's history, and perhaps the most enigmatic. Born on the 4th of Sun's Dusk 3E411, she seemed to be just another brought into the harsh world of Tamriel, but the crows lurking in the window would suggest otherwise.

"Oh my, Arrula, she's so beautiful!" The young Carlotta said with a choke in her throat, "Her hair is like the night sky, and her eyes like the lightest of the Abecean Sea."

"Let me see her…" Arrula weakly replied. As the young woman hands the child to its mother, the wind forced the glass of the windowpane to collapse. Shards of glittery daggers shot through the room, the black birds followed swiftly, creating a panicked whirlwind of feathers and glass. Arrula watched the color fade from view, and her vision clouded with soft images of her love, estranged from this phenomena; estranged from his daughter.

"What is this?" Carlotta covered her eyes.

"I don't…" Arrula remained silent as she became weaker. She could only gaze upon the serene face of her newborn daughter. Her infant eyes simply watched the room dance in the most frightening way, but she never uttered a sound. _My daughter is stronger than me perhaps_, she thought. _She's barely a person and she can withstand the fears of many a warrior, whatever is happening to her._

Of course, neither of them understood what was occurring there. The flicker of dark magic electrified the air, and the women didn't understand why. Why would this happen to a baby girl at the time of her birth? Why this girl? However magnificent the display of either celebration or protest, it left as quickly as it came. The mighty birds fled at once through the broken window pane, and the glass simply fell to the floor. The strobe of the candles was restored as they were somehow re-ignited.

The light of the room grew, the warmth restored. The young mother closed her tired eyes slowly, the air leaving her lungs. She saw smiles for the last time. Her last image was that of the cold eyes of her daughter. She muttered, "Marylith… my daughter…" and slipped away into her slumber.


	2. Chapter I - Special Child

Chapter I

Special Child

* * *

Marylith stepped off one of the rocks next to the Corbolo river center-town, her bare feet feeling the wet grass of early Second Seed, 3E423. A twelve-year-old girl stands with a bow in her hand. She pulled back an arrow aimed for an apple on another child's blonde head.

"Antoinetta, calm down, I'm not going to shoot you." Antoinetta stood frozen against a building's stone covered wall, her eyes closed tight and her fists clenched the same. "Marylith… are you sure you can do this? My father would be really angry at you and your mother if I died."

"She's not my mother." She let the arrow go with one eye focused intently on the target. The crimson apple shattered into moist pieces all over Antoinetta's head when the arrow flew through. The arrow stuck into a wooden board behind the young blonde girl's head. "Ah, I hate it when the apple shatters." shrugged Marylith.

"I can't say I much like it either…" Antoinetta states as she picks the apple fragments out of her hair.

"Baby."

"I am not. Sorry if I'm just afraid of something sharp going through my brain."

"You are too, I've been using this bow for almost two months. I'm practically an expert."

"Yeah, I guess so." The two girls walked along the water's edge, dressed in their middle-class dresses, adorned in gold threading and lace-up backs. They were dressed too nicely for an average day, but the two liked to feel feminine, even when they were running in the mud.

"I'm sorry for saying something about your mother."

"You apologize too much."

"No really, my father told me what happened, that the guards took her away and killed her for taking his calipers." Marylith looked to her with a sarcastic look of disbelief, as she moved her bangs behind her ear. "My goodness, my family name is tarnished."

"That's not what happened, is it?"

"Does that sound reasonable, at all? Were you executed when you stole Borba ra-Uzgash's cat last week? Calipers, really. Your father needs to be told a thing or two."

"I dunno, I never really thought about it. I just thought he was right because he brought me a sweetroll when he told me."

"I wouldn't listen to everything a sweetroll-giving-troll has to say." Marylith flashed her girlish grin at Antoinetta and flung her bow over her shoulder. "Do you remember where we put our shoes?"

As they walk onto the cobblestone street, filled with people on horses, people shopping, people yelling, they wave in response to a few "Hello girls", and "Hail, young ladies" to a few passersby. There were always the friendly people of Cheydinhal, however scared of life outside of the walls; but, there were also the ones who feared Marylith: The young girl without fear or grievances for her dead mother; The young girl who had the skin as white as the northern hills, hair dark as the void, and eyes as piercing as a blade's flash. She was beautiful, even as an adolescent girl. Some revered her for her beauty, while some plotted that her looks are a Deadric trap to hide the darkness in her, the evil under her skin.

She never paid attention to the dribble from the townsfolk. She was admirably mature for a 12-year-old. She simply walked past confidently that these people were the spawn of idiots, and that she was the spawn of something greater.

Antoinetta and Marylith walk up to the house where Marylith had been born, and raised. The lovely two-story Dunmer-influenced manor where their family had been living for years now, still stood proud and beautiful as before. Little flowers of Morning Glory were growing on the beams of the veranda. There were the ceramic vases lining the walls with various vegetables and flowers growing in them, even though they weren't tended, they always seemed to flourish. The windows were patterned with diamond shaped lines, and the wood lining them carved with decorations of flowers and stories. Those stories were never told, and the girls just assumed they were about curses and the like.

The girls dropped their backpacks next to the fire, and Marylith set her bow on a wall, that way she won't leave the house without it (Or at least won't forget it). "Carlotta, what did you do?" exclaimed Marylith as she turned around to see a dog sleeping in the threshold to the kitchen. A much aged Carlotta poked her head around the corner to greet the girls, "Oh, the mut? I named him Brutus." The ever youthful smile went across her face as she resumes cooking in the other room. Carlotta stayed mostly the same since Marylith could remember: a deep brown color to her hair, brought up in a braided bun. Her eyes were a darkened green, but lively in the sun. The night Marylith was born, she swears she formed wrinkles, adding to her appearance of age, at a mere 35.

"That's all good, but where… did you find him?" She said as she kneeled down to pet the sleeping old dog's head. He was a grey dog, with knots in his fur. He looked like he's seen his days, a lot of days. Carlotta spoke from the kitchen this time, "A friend. Not to worry, though. He's all ours now."

"How. Though?"

"Stop worrying and come eat this salmon, I bought it at Borba's Goods and Stores this morning. Still fresh, and it smells amazing." Antoinetta grinned at Marylith at the mention of Borba, and the thought of her cat. Marylith kept her eyes on the dog in front of her, for some reason she didn't believe what she'd been told. This dog couldn't simply be theirs now. She got to her feet and walked into the kitchen, to join Carlotta and her fantastic salmon. "Antoinetta Marie! Hail young woman." She looked to their feet after the greeting. "Where in Oblivion are your shoes?"

"We don't know."

"You've got to be joking, those aren't free." She scoffed and pulled coin from her apron pocket, "Go buy some shoes from Borba's, and keep a hold of them this time." The girls pocketed the coins smiling and left the house, out into the sunny day once more. They picked up their shoes from behind a bush and pulled out the gold. Antoinetta smiled and looked at Marilith with her deep blue eyes, her cheeks blushed, "What should we buy?" Marylith pursed her full lips together, "Let's get some mead." The two ran off into the town, the sun setting, and the streets clearing most of the people.

Carlotta stood in the slowly glooming kitchen, eating her salmon. As she let her mind run on the sunset outside the window, she thought of the feathers. What could that even have meant? _I'm not so sure Marylith has even thought of what I told her, or if she even believes me. _As the light played off the Corbolo river, she hadn't noticed the door at the back of the house open.

"Hello, Carlotta."

Marylith sat on the top of the north wall, surrounding Cheydinhal, drinking mead and talking with Antoinetta, the silly little lamb who can't hold her mead. Antoinetta had her head resting on the rocks. She was staring over the wall, outside of town. "I want to go someday."

"Where?"

"Anywhere…"

"There's not much, from what I hear; a lot of trees, a lot of bandits."

"You don't really believe that do you?"

"No, not really. I just like when people tell me life outside is certain death."

"My father doesn't like when I say death."

"I like hearing about your father, too."

"I'll stop talking about him, sorry Mary…" They sat silent for a good moment before Antoinetta broke the silence again. "I should go home before my father comes after me." She rested her head on Marylith's lap and held her hand for a second, "I'll see you in the morning?" Marylith nodded in response and the two parted ways, making their way through the darkened town.

Crashes were heard from outside the door when the little girl arrived, a muffled cry came from inside. With horror on her face, and her fists clenched, she sprinted to the door. Door locked. Cries continued. She ran to a window to try to pry it open. Locked. Continued cries of horror. Something breaks. A yell. Soon covered. Marylith had to find a way in. She looked around. Large rocks next to the plants. She grabs one. Quickly now, as the adrenaline kicked in. Her heart bumped faster. She swung. The glass shattered. The cries got louder. She jumped through. Ignoring the glass in her feet.


	3. Chapter II - Taste of Blood

Chapter II

Taste of Blood

* * *

Her heart continued to beat in a rushed manner, as she sprinted through the home, turning every corner with expectation of seeing someone dead. She kicked a door in, what would be the store room, to see Carlotta. Nude. Under an unfamiliar man. Carlotta looked to Marylith's small silhouette in the doorway, and reached for her, tears streaming down her face, her eyes the widest they can go. The man with black paint on his eyes turned to her, and his hand comes off of Carlotta's mouth, as she yelled in horror, screaming for Marylith to "Run! Go! Get out of here!" Marylith ran into the living room, across more broken glass, not to escape, but to get what she knew she needed. She gripped an arrow from the quiver on the wall, and held the end like a sword. She turned, with her hair flowing in her face, to face the man emerging from the room, with a dagger in his palm. He had fur armor on, like a bandit would, and an aura of anger on his face.

"C'mere little girl, I'm not gonna hurt ya."

"I was half hoping you were going to fight back." With that she ran towards him, almost slow motion it seemed. Her heart was beating like it was coming out of her chest. The man with a quirk of his brow clutched his dagger harder, ready to thrust it into Marylith's little frame. Marylith lost herself in the moment, the two bodies running toward each other. The brutish man with the blade being thrust, jumped at her with a grunt. Marylith took her blood covered foot and pushed off of the table next to her with a spin, twirling her up in the air, slightly higher than his jump. With the momentum from the spin, she swung the arrow so the arrowhead just. Barely. Slit. His. Throat.

She landed behind him from the jump, and twirled the arrow like a baton in her hand, shaking off the blood droplets that collected. The man fell to his knees, blood pouring from his neck. With the same horror frozen on his face, he collapsed to the wooden floor. The puddle collecting, she watched it spread with fascination. "Imperial girl." A man's voice said from behind her.

"Put down the arrow, and I won't hurt Carlotta." There were three more men, dressed in fur armor like the other, black paint on their face. The middle one was holding Carlotta with a knife to her neck.

"What are you doing to her?!" Marylith says in panic.

"She stole from us, and we got it back." He poked the tip of the knife lightly into Carlotta's neck, making a small point of blood, "With interest." Carlotta cringes slightly.

"What are you talking about?"

"Carlotta here is a thief, you may have not heard of her, but she's actually important in the Thieves Guild here in Cyrodill."

"I don't understand." Marylith squinted at them.

"I wouldn't expect you to. You are young. There is much to learn." The man to his right grinned at Marylith with an eerie look in his eye.

"I don't care what she stole, you got it back, so why can't you let her go?!"

"Aye, sweetheart, we would. But what lesson would there be if we just let her go?"

With a quick swipe of his blade, blood flowed down her bare breasts, and she fell. Marylith's eyes filled with tears as her guardian was struck down in front of her, her eyes developing a spark in them only the greatest anger could produce. She ran at them with the arrow again, twirling in her hand. To the left, his throat was sliced, his blood spattered on the stone walls. In front, the man reared his leg and kicked her down into the wall, her head bounces off the rocks and makes a gash so a small amount of blood flowed from her hair.

"I liked him." The front man said unenthusiastically, reaching for his sword in his sheath. Marylith's vision became less blurred and she wiped the blood from her eyes. She rolled to the side to avoid the thrust of his iron blade. She took what she learned and kicked off the wall behind her to send herself into the air and sliced his face vertically, blood splattering across her dress. As he was holding his face and groveling, Marylith watched the third man grip his axe at his waist. She grabbed the front man's sword from the ground next to him and rolled over him to stab the standing man in the gut. Soon as she had the sword in him, she twisted, and twisted. Blood poured from him as he fell to the floor like the other man. The sword was too heavy for her, but she seemed to pull it out of him easy enough. She stood, turning her head to the front man with the slice on his face, her expression calm, her eyes flickering in the faint candlelight. The blood on her face soaked the black weaves of her hair, covering one of her eyes. For this moment, this man forgot she was a little girl. She walked to him, as he leaned against the wall. She drug the sword behind her and kneeled over him. With both hands she raised the sword to his chest and placed the point on him, pushing ever-so-slightly.

"Was it worth it? What she stole?"

"Wha… what…" He stuttered to her eyes, unblinking, staring into him.

"Are you happy you killed her?"

"N… No."

"That's a shame. I don't see any reason to kill if you didn't enjoy it."

"I… You…"

"I'm going to enjoy this. Now scream."

She pushed the blade as slow as she can into his chest, cracking the ribs as it enters. She twisted to make sure the most damage can be done as possible to his innards. She stood, the sword sticking out of him. She moved to his side and stared the half-dead man down.

"You've got a fantastic scream. But you really should be quiet, before everyone hears you." She reared back her leg and kicked the sword over so it would crack the wound open, exposing his heart. The life left the man's eyes shortly after, with Marylith watching every second.

She continued to watch him for a moment, before she realized what she had done. She leaned against the wall and held her bloody hand to her mouth. Tears filled her eyes as she looked over the carnage that she caused. Marylith kneeled next to Carlotta's cold, dead body. She held her hand in hers, and kissed it lightly. Her tears were transferring to her hand, they wouldn't stop flowing. She saw the torches approach, the whites of her eyes red from sorrow. She ran out the door, trying to suppress her sobs. Before she leaves, she takes the bow from the wall, the quiver of cheap arrows, and fled Cheydinhal as fast, and as quiet, as she possibly could.

She drew an arrow as a guard closed in to her, outside of the city walls.


	4. Chapter III - Lucien's Watch

Chapter III

Lucien's Watch

* * *

The cobblestone roads of the Imperial City market shined with the heavy rain. Citizens dressed in the finest attire ran for shelter in nearby shops, or the large plateau-like stone roofs supported by columns. They were much prissier than the people of Cheydinhal, and Marylith smiled a little to herself. She huddled in an archway, her knees to her chest. She kept her face hidden under her hood of her fabric cloak, her still-night colored hair brought to the front. It had grown quite a bit since she was a girl. Marylith had aged to 16, matured beyond her years from the experiences she had in the past years. She was about to continue these experiences, for the gold that the people of Cyrodill has grown reliant on. She tossed her bow over her shoulder and concealed it with her cloak, as she walked silently through the back alleys.

The man was standing in the center of the Elven Garden's district, covered in a golden colored robe, hooded as most priests are. He had been warning the citizens about a cult he had thought to be a threat. He caused quite unrest in the community, most people becoming frightened or dark corners, or other people, thinking them to be a part of this insanity. "They could be any one of you, keep your eyes to the side, keep your watch to your backs. If they think you're a threat, you will be terminated." Marylith scoffed at his claims, drawing an arrow from her quiver as she perched on the rooftop across the way. "The Mythic Dawn are very much real, and among us! They aren't the work of legends to keep you good in spirit, they are the seed of Merhrunes Dagon! Their only aspiration is to destroy this realm for their lord and master, and we are simply standing by and letting them do it, from the inside!"

Marylith pulls an arrow back, closing an eye to close on her target. Blasted heretic, she muttered to herself as she holds her breath. Keeping her lungs to capacity until… Release. Exhale. The steel arrow flies in a straight path, silently, quickly, zinging through leaves, narrow paths of column. The arrow finds its target without flaw, piercing the heart of the priest. As she opens her other eye with a grin on her face, the people surrounding the man begin to panic. The man warning them just fell to his silent death, his words cut off without pain. They scream and run the opposite direction or the now-limp priest. Before celebration could happen, the guards notice the dark figure perched on the roof, Marylith. They yell, curse, and begin to open fire with their own bows. Marylith dodges a few arrows pinging off of the roof, and burst into a sprint across the rooftops.

The Elven Garden's district is arranged into a circle, a statue in the middle, with the building's lining it. The rounded roads around the lush district resembled rivers, and the plants that flourished there helped that image. The area was definitely home to some beautiful works of art, and people who could create them; a place of harmony, or so it seemed.

Marylith clung to her bow as tightly as she could, keeping pace with her feet, taking into account the dips and curves of the metal roofs. She closed in on a space between the buildings, as a group of guards were expecting her there. Her heart beating faster than she was running kept her eyes alert, unblinking. She holds her breath as she pushes off the edge, her body completely airborne, her hair free-flowing, her breath still. Arrows from the guards below begin to whiz past her arms, her head, her legs, but somehow they never seemed to hit her, until one grazed her shin. She landed with a successful roll over the gap, holding her now-bleeding leg. Son of a bitch… she groaned as she rolled too far, sliding her down the steep slope of the roof. Her heart beat now seeming slower, everything seemed to slow down. She gripped the edge to save her life, but it seemed inevitable, the concept of death. She could fall to the rocks below, and die by her choosing; Or, she could dangle here, incapacitated, waiting for one of the guards to improve his aim. She couldn't even fathom the thought of someone taking her life for her. So she dropped. She closed her eyes as she passed the windows, frightened people staring her back into her eyes. The wallflowers wept as she plummeted, seeming to wither away in a saddened droop. The colors of the stone, the stained windows, the green of the foliage blended together in a portal that would take her to her afterlife. Surely she would break her neck, or bleed out on the sharp rocks. Her body simply wasn't built for abuse, and this was an amount of abuse that she knew wouldn't be possible. She closed in now, the ground becoming clear. Her only thought was of her last conversation, and the bonus she forfeited, not 30 seconds ago. She felt shame, anger, disappointment, from herself and the guiding eyes that she had met earlier in the year.

His name was Lucien, a dark, mysterious man that seemed to take an interest in young Marylith. The Imperial was adorned in a pitch black hooded robe that concealed most of his face, but Marylith could see that she was attracted to this mystery of a man. Something about the unattainable made him interesting; another would be that he was standing next to her bed. "You sleep rather soundly for a murderer, Lady." Was all that he said, shaking her from her sleep in the Inn bed. She sat up, covered by the blanket with her hands, silent from the intrigue and fear. "The silent type? I like that." Marylith brushed her hair behind her ear turning her face, but keeping her icy eyes on him. "You may not know it yet, but we have been watching, impressed by your talent at taking a life with no remorse." He began, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "You impressed us, and we want you with us. You seem confused, let me explain. You killed that guard outside of Cheydinhal, not because you wanted to defend yourself, no, but because you wanted to feel the power you felt with those bandits. Am I correct?"

"How did you find out about that?"

"You speak, finally. We didn't simply 'find out', Lady. But we were watching. You're very close to members of our family, in Cheydinhal. We can watch you from anywhere, with our numbers. But you were very close to one of our particular families there. You may recall the run-down building there, yes?"

"Yes, I know that house. They say it's haunted."

"That very well might be, or it could be a diversion to keep people out of our business."

"What business would that be, Sir…?"

"Ah, how rude of me. My Name, my dear, is Lucien Lachance. The business I speak of is very fascinating indeed. You may have heard of the Dark Brotherhood?"

"The Dark Brotherhood… the assassins? They're real… and in Cheydinhal?"

"Cheydinhal, haha, Lady, our family is everywhere. You just didn't know this for certain reasons, until now."

"Why now?"

"You have the fire we admire in the people we select for our family, and I am here to extend a hand of welcome."

Marylith had been alone since that faithful night when she was 12, four years later and she had the opportunity to be a part of something. This something also happened to be the Dark Brotherhood. They were the work of myths, the shadows to claim lives when the coin was appropriate. The ever-hidden heartless murderers of Emperors weren't unknown to her. In fact, she had only the most admiration for them, if not a fatal attraction.

This was her third assignment, this robed man in the Imperial City. Her first two went flawlessly, this one, was a disappointment. She had thought of the kiss they shared under the dark rock of the Sanctuary, the warmth, or lack thereof, of his body encasing hers_. What would he think of me now?_ She thought, as the rocks grew closer below her.

The fast impact was not what she had expected, a soft cushion, a man catching her. She settled slowly, opening her eyes with the most caution until she saw an imperial guard holding her safely, her body not wrecked from jagged rocks. He had the golden armor of the most trusted guard in tamriel, and she hated it. Marylith slipped a tiny knife from her sleeve and ran it across his throat, a quick, easy way to debilitate an opponent. As she rolled from the corpse's arms as he fell, she was bombarded by swords at every angle, backing her into a corner. "Halt right there, criminal scum." One of them shouted. "One at a time, boys." She seductively stated with a smile. She knew in the back of her mind this would be her last conscious words until she woke up from the inevitable impact of a sword hilt to her head.


	5. Chapter IV - Repentance?

Chapter IV

Repentance?

* * *

The walls of the Imperial prison seemed to get darker as the hours dragged on. The young Marylith sat patiently on the provided prison bed; if you could call it a bed. It was stone with a few blankets thrown about, uncomfortable, but Marylith was used to discomfort. She watched the small bugs crawl in and out of the small barred window; even they disrupted the solitude she wanted to achieve. A guard walked by the bars of her cell door, smiled and gave a little chuckle, as if he knew something she didn't. Marylith smiled back with a sarcastic tone, not caring what the man knew. She couldn't be hurt anymore. Her mind was broken completely, and her body abused. She ripped a bit of cloth from the blanket provided, and bandaged her bloody wound on her leg.

She tipped her head, side-to-side, counting seconds it seemed. She would not be saddened if her life were to end here. She was disappointed in herself. Lucien's words kept ringing in her ears: "Welcome to the family".

Six years had passed.

The dark rings around her eyes had grown, and her body frail. She never really got a full meal in here, the dark and the stone of the Imperial city prison. Her only excitement was when they moved her to a new cell. Across the way from a Dunmer that called himself Valen. Valen was a full Dunmer, from what you can tell about appearances. He had darkened gray-blue skin, pointed ears, an elongated, fierce face, and the deepest red eyes. They all looked like that, those Dark Elves. He never told Marylith why he was in here, but she didn't really care to hear why. In fact, he remained silent for the most part, making eye contact one-in-a-while. Until one fateful day, he decided to speak.

"You're an Imperial?" He said, in a hushed tone.

"You wouldn't think so." She chuckled.

"How ironic! How rich! An Imperial in the Imperial prison."

"I don't much care for the title, thank you."

"Neither do they, they're going to make sure you don't see the city again." Marylith looked at him after these words, still huddled against the wall. "Oh, you didn't know? You're going to die in here Imperial. You're going to die." He laughed that dreadful laugh that most Dark Elves had, and smiled as the cell wing door opened, "Hey, you hear that? The guards are coming… for you!" And he laughs once again. If she didn't know better, she'd swear he was mad. "Fuck yourself", she muttered and got to her feet.

She gathered her hair over her shoulders and stood with perfect, feminine posture, awaiting her judgment without fear. Her face was stoic, and her eyes calm. She simply stood, breathing normally. "They're dead… I know it," said an older man's voice, accompanied by two people's footsteps. No three. Marylith was out of practice. The female guard stopped in front of her cell, brash, tough, woman with the aura of battle about her. They called her Captain Renault. "What's this prisoner doing here? This cell is supposed to be off limits!" She growled at her peers. Three men stood with her, two in uniformed armor, like her. They were Baurus: A redguard man of a middle age, wise beyond his years; The other, Glenroy: an Imperial man who seemed thrust into the situation, although battle-ready. The panicked looks upon their faces and the rushed tone to their voices alarmed Marylith, who furrowed her brow at them. Glenroy forces words, "U-Usual mixup at the watch… I…"

"Nevermind, get that gate open." Captain Renault commanded, "Stand back prisoner, we won't hesitate to kill you if you get in our way." Glenroy nodded to her command and proceeded to join in the command. "Prisoner! Stand aside. Over by the window and you won't get hurt."

Marylith tilted her head in response and moved back against the stone wall. Her hands raised to show she meant no harm; however, that didn't change the tone in the people's faces. The guards entered the cell, with the man short behind. He was obscured by shadow, before he entered behind. The man was elder-aged, grey hair, wise lines under his eyes. He wore a regal robe, with a white furred collar and gold thread. Red underneath, it was a soft, violet fabric that looked like twilight. This man was important, and Marylith was beginning to understand when she saw the glistening red jewel around his neck. He stepped proudly, until he saw her.

"You ... I've seen you... Let me see your face... You are the one from my dreams... Then the stars were right, and this is the day. Gods give me strength."

"What's going on?" Marylith replied to him, as the guards seemed hesitant to let her speak to him.

"Assassins attacked my sons, and I'm next. My Blades are leading me out of the city along a secret escape route. By chance, the entrance to that escape route leads through your cell."

"Who… are you?" She said quietly.

"I am your emperor, Uriel Septim. By the grace of the Gods, I serve Tamriel as her ruler. You are a citizen of Tamriel, and you, too, shall serve her in your own way."

"I go my own way."

"So do we all. But what path can be avoided whose end is fixed by the almighty Gods?

Marylith squints at him, confused, before Captain Renault pushes in a stone next to Marylith's bunk. "We best keep moving, there's no opening this from the other side." The bed lowers into the floor, and the wall opens with a cloud of dust. It reveals a path, leading under the prison itself. It was dimly lit, and the air was stagnant. The three began to walk down the dark pathway together, on guard. "I guess today's your lucky day." Baurus said to Marylith, his eyes flickered at her over his shoulder. He smiled and continued walking.


	6. Chapter V - Ambushed

Chapter V

Ambushed

* * *

The three walked ahead, seemingly aware of their steps already, over every crack and crevice. Marylith stalks behind, watching her steps with incredible grace and agility. "What's your name, girl?" The Redguard asks, as more of a demand than a question. He finally turns to her as he walks, and she quickly realizes it was meant for her. "Marylith." She says, and continues along at her own pace. "Marylith," he muses, "Beautiful name."

"I suppose."

"You don't seem to fit your delicate appearance."

"You try being a sweetheart after spending fucking ages in a stone box,** Sir**."

"Fair enough"

She half-expected him to strike at her, after her retort. He simply smiled a full toothed grin, trying to charm her she felt. She blinked slowly and kept her eyes forward, clutching a makeshift shoulder bag close. This bag was all she had, she felt. It contained a tan mug, an extra cloth shirt, sandals, and a long-winded letter to her family she failed all those years ago.

The five of them continued through the hallowed halls of the undercroft, many twists and turns of dusty, dirty stone. They retained a sort of vibration, Marylith felt in her feet; as well as a certain cold bite. Openings to the world above gave small glimpses Marylith felt that she would never miss. Trees, grass, blinding sunlight. Somehow, this sunlight was different than the rays from her cell, these seemed more like promises rather than a tease.

"We're almost there," Captain Renault said hopefully, "I can feel it." Marylith stopped in her tracks, a little brush of stone caught her keen ear. The four continued walking. "Wait," Baurus said, "Is everything okay, love?" He looks back at Marylith. She squints and looks around, before fixing her eyes on a small opening just ahead. A burst of red light erupts subtly as a man wearing a dark, organic-looking armor over a red cloak emerges… and two more identical behind him. This red burst manifests from other openings in this large, darkened room. "There!" Marylith said quickly, as the four turned to their front, to see this charge.

These figures held out their hands as black spiny maces appear in a shockwave-like glow, _this magic_, she thought, _who are these people? _Baurus, Glenroy, and Captain Renault circled around the emperor and drew their long, gleaming katanas.

As the onslaught continues, the three of the guards began to cut the now-visible men and women down. As their blades entered the assassins' bodies, the armor dissipated from around them, revealing their true identities. Marylith tried to loot a mace from one of the fallen, but it quickly melded into the air, much like the armor they wear. She had to resort to the effective method of running into the shadows and staying out of sight.

Shortly after she found a small opening in the wall, she heard a cry. She twisted her head around to find Captain Renault slain, fallen to the ground. It was almost as if a titan died. She was a figure that Marylith gathered deserved a lot of respect, but unfortunately deserved nothing but the cold of a mace in the end. She turned away quickly, retreating into a narrow tunnel. The sounds of cries, swords clashing, and shouts died away quietly, as she got further into the dusty tomb of the Imperial City.

"Welcome home," a hood-down Lucien Lachance mused, "I know you'll love it here." Marylith smiled genuinely at him, the man who, in a sense, rescued her. "I already do." She said, her eyes dancing around her own chambers in the sanctuary just South of snow-covered town of Bruma. The room was beautiful, she couldn't even fathom sleeping in a room of this elegance. The dark stone walls were covered in tapestries, laced with gold, and the finest silks. The bed was wide, and lifted from the ground, with the same appearance as the tapestries on the walls, lavish and selfish. She had her own table edge-to-edge with wine, _oh, wine._

"Care for a glass?" Lucien broke her thought. "Absolutely." She timidly spoke. He elegantly poured her a glass as she sank into a fainting couch parallel to the bed. "Here we are," he returned with the drink. "The best money couldn't buy." He smirked. Marylith softly sipped the wine, her eyes fluttered from the extravagant taste. He smiled at her wide, admiring her soft face. He tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear and rested his hand on the back of her neck. "You are indeed, something special." He softly spoke to her, "I knew this when you awoke, back at the inn."

"How could you know that, from the first glance?"

"Well, when you were disrobed, I noticed that scars were non-existent. I noticed your smooth, white skin, completely untarnished, despite your four years of being exposed to the world outside of the birdcage Cheydinhal. I observed how your breasts rose and fell in leisure." He ran his hand down the center of her chest as he held the back of her neck. "Your slim waist was tantalizing." He continues his touch down her side, clutching it tightly. "Your complete being was so relaxed, so comfortable… without a care." He moved his face closer to hers, his breath heated her face, "Your full lips, slightly parted... so inviting…" He pushed his lips into hers, pulling her close. They breathed through their noses, as it got louder. Marylith took her hands to the sides of his face, pulling him to her, closer, warmer.

Lucien pulled his lips away for a moment, his breathing heavier, his voice lower, "And I finally have you, to myself, completely to myself behind closed doors."

They lay disrobed together, skin-to-skin, limbs intertwined. Lucien kissed her neck, rocking his hips into hers. Marylith moaned, digging her nails into the muscle of his back. He described the extreme lust he felt towards her, but she knew she felt it to him as well. She had fantasized about becoming a woman to him, giving herself to him completely. As they drew the end to the final throes, they collapsed, together.

Lucien placed a small, soft kiss upon her lips as she drifted into sleep, "Welcome home."

Marylith stalked through the narrow pathway, her feet nimbly stepping over crevices and large rocks. She became a lot more mindful of her surroundings. After six years being trapped in a box, she's now forced to become what she was.

The surface openings have disappeared, replaced by torchlight. The thought crossed her mind, _who lit these? How long have they been burning? _The sight of a skeleton clutching a wooden chest soon replaced the thought. "Poor man," She muttered, before deciding to loot him for all he is—or what he was, rather—worth. "Yes!" She exclaimed, discovering under many layers of cloak laid an iron bow. It wasn't the best in quality, but it was something she could definitely use. Marylith clutched the outermost layer of his cloak and draped it around her shoulders. It wasn't the finest quality either; but it fell to the floor, covering her completely. This unnamed man also held a coin purse, a quiver of iron arrows—only a few of them useable—and a ruby ring. She put the ring on, admiring its shine. She smiled a bit before returning to her trek through the tunnels.

The tunnel wasn't like the rest of the undercroft. It seemed to have been made many, many years later as a quicker route through the winding paths. Whatever had made these, didn't make them to look nice. "They keep cutting us down," Marylith heard a man's voice coming from the edge of the tunnels. "We only have two guards left, and the Emperor, how hard could this be? We have the numbers." The man continued. "They have the advantage, they're on the offense." A woman replied.

"Offense? Hah! We have Lord Dagon on our side."

"They have the world on theirs."

"They won't soon, you know this as well as I do."

"Let's just get the amulet. I want to return to Camoran successful."

"They'll be coming through here at any moment, come, let's get a vantage point."

Marylith quirked a brow. Hearing this sort of talk was completely foreign to her, and nothing made sense. She drew a salvageable arrow from the quiver and docked it in the bow, and sneaked to the end of the tunnel. It opened into a large room of the undercroft, high up, close to the ceiling. She was surprised to see the two in blood-red, hooded robes, searching for a place to hide. "We must keep moving, Sire." Baurus said from the hallway leading to this room. Marylith knew a fight was inevitable. She noticed a small glimmer of a man's red robe, peeking around a corner at them. She pulled the arrow back, and released. The arrow struck him in the skull, and he fell with a quiet-enough thud. She smiled, _I guess I'm not that out of practice. _

"Here they come again!" Glenroy shouted, as a slew of more assassins poured in from all sides of the room. How could they be this hidden, to where Marylith only saw two? They were professionals. Swords were swinging, clanging off each other. The Emperor's guards were indeed fighting with the strength of Tamriel behind them, their swords piercing the assassins' guts. Glenroy was neck-and-neck with a bigger-set man, pushing him away as their swords locked. His sword flew to the ground next to him leaving him off guard. Marylith quickly sends an arrow to the assassin's calf, it went half-way through. "Fuck!" The man screamed and dropped to a knee to hold his leg. Glenroy picked up his sword as the slightest disadvantage, and struck the man through the back, killing him. Glenroy catches his breath, as he sees Marylith in the opening. He smiles a little, and continues to destroy the onslaught.

Baurus was preoccupied, guarding the Emperor. He fought them off as fiercely as he could, standing his ground unwaveringly. Marylith helped how she knew she could at this point, firing arrows to debilitate the attackers. She left the killing to them, for now. As the last drop of blood fell, the three below caught their breath. "Good job up there, prisoner." Glenroy said, rather impressed. Marylith bowed her head slightly and dropped from the roost, landing on a foot and knee, as nimble as ever. "You're one hell of a marksman." Baurus stated.

"Thank you."

"Where did you learn to shoot like that?"

"I don't know, I've always been able to."

"You've been blessed by the Thief, no doubt." The Emperor added. Marylith simply quirked a brow at him. "I have no idea what you mean."

"You don't know your starsign?"

"I suppose not, it never came up."

"If I wasn't mistaken, you must be born under the Thief. Blessed with cat-like agility, ability with the bow and arrow, and the uncanny gift to remain hidden."

"That's what got me here in the first place. You call it blessed, I call it unreliable."

The Emperor nodded in silent resignation, "It doesn't matter what you committed to be imprisoned here, I'd say you just earned yourself a pardon." Marylith blinked slowly and broke eye contact, as if to say_, I don't need your pardon. I can be perfectly happy no matter where I am, including the Imperial Prison. _The Emperor smiled, he strangely understood her facial expressions. Glenroy walked to a barred gate. "Dammit!" He shouted, "The gate's been barred from the other side, a trap!" Marylith quickly scanned the room, drawing an arrow to stand at the ready. "What about that side passage back there?" Baurus added.

"Worth a try, let's go."

The four of them walked down another corridor that Baurus spoke of, only to lead to a dead end. The room only had one entrance, and that was the hallway they came down. "This is no good." Baurus said solemnly. "They're behind us!" Glenroy exclaimed. "Stay with the Emperor prisoner, don't let him leave your sight." The two guards fled down the hallway, where sounds of battle awaited them. Shouts and cries flooded the stone halls, to where Marylith looked upon the Emperor with worried eyes. "My dear," he began. "You must take this, I fear this is my last living moment." He removed the extravagant jewel from his neck and places it in Marylith's palm. "Why are you giving me this?"

"Because I know, that you are the one to save us."

"I don't understand…"

As she examined the amulet in her palm, she began to get lost in the refraction that the gem has on the pale light. It was fiery almost. Immediate silence, the man in front of her had a knife sticking through his chest. He looked at her with comforting eyes, his face was warm. He knew he made the decision that would change the world. He fell as the knife slips from his frame. "Well, well." The assassin began. "Who is this pretty little thing?" Marylith clutched her bow, the amulet resting in her other hand. "Not into talking? Very well, I'll make this quick for you." He lunges at her with the knife glistening still with the Emperor's blood. Marylith moved to the side slightly, catching his arm with her bow. She twirled it just right so he drops the knife in front of him. She kicked off of his now-bent knee and lands behind him, the string of the bow resting on his neck. She pulled, and the string constricted his breathing. Small drops of blood dripped from his neck as the string dug deeper.

"I'll make this slow." Marylith said darkly.

A few moments passed until the assassin became limp, and died quietly. She releases him and turns to face the cold-face Emperor. _Why did you trust me?_ She thought._ I couldn't even save you._

Marylith emerged from the Imperial sewers, her cloak wet with the city's waste. In front of her was a large body of water, with the shore not too far on the other side. Suddenly, these small sights were much more heavy. She appreciated them.

Baurus' words still echoed in her ears. "You must get the Amulet to Jauffre. He's currently at Weynon Priory in Chorral, many miles West of here. He will know what to do." The thought crossed her mind, to head to Chorral now, but she had other things to take care of first. She stowed the amulet in her shoulder bag and continued walking to Cheydinhal.


End file.
